


the art of thwarting death

by axebastard



Category: IT (Movies - Muschietti), IT - Stephen King
Genre: Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fix-It, Hospitals, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-09
Updated: 2019-09-09
Packaged: 2020-10-13 02:37:58
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 891
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20575070
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/axebastard/pseuds/axebastard
Summary: Despite everything, he still had Richie.





	the art of thwarting death

The first thing Eddie saw upon waking up was Richie. He was sprawled in a chair that seemed three sizes too small, arms crossed and curly head lolling to one side. Fast asleep.  
  
The first thing Eddie saw upon waking up was Richie, and he could've cried with relief. But he didn't cry. He cleared his throat, opened his mouth, and said, "Rich?"  
  
Richie jerked awake with a gross snort, because of course he did, and the second his bleary eyes met Eddie's own he froze. And this was unusual, because Richie Tozier wasn't prone to freezing. But there he sat, wide-eyed and open-mouthed, looking like a deer caught in some very powerful headlights. Meanwhile, Eddie just kept waiting for a joke, or a smile, or _something_. Anything.  
  
Much to his surprise, Richie started crying. Big, hot tears that welled up and spilled over, and he took his glasses off, tried to wipe the evidence away with the back of his hand, but it was too late. Eddie had seen. Eddie had _seen_, which is why he reached out to Richie, arm crawling with tubes; Richie met him halfway, their fingers tangling together so tight that it hurt. A good hurt. The kind that said, _We're still alive, dammit._  
  
"It's okay, Rich," Eddie croaked around the lump in his throat. "We're gonna be okay."  
  
"I love you," Richie choked out, like he'd thought he wouldn't get the chance to say it. As if, in his long history of talking too much, it was the only thing worth saying.  
  
"I love you, too," Eddie said, and his voice was a cracked whisper, but he was smiling, and that made Richie smile. Puffy eyes crinkling at the corners, he grinned with the manic joy of someone who was very lucky and very in love. Giving Eddie's hand one last tender squeeze, he slowly but surely unraveled their fingers so he could drag himself out of the chair.  
  
"Enough of the sappy shit," he announced, shoving his smudged glasses further up on his nose. "I'm gonna go get something from the cafeteria. You want anything?"  
  
Eddie's smile rose a little higher on one side. "Yeah, actually."  
  
"What?"  
  
"Your mom."  
  
Gasping in betrayal, Richie crossed his big hairy arms and said, "Y'know what? Just for that I'm gonna force-feed you some cashews or whatever the fuck you're allergic to."  
  
"I got skewered by a giant clown monster and _lived_," Eddie pointed out, unimpressed. "Pretty sure I can handle a few cashews."  
  
"We'll see about that, motherfucker," Richie threatened before leaving the room in a huff. Eddie watched him go with fondness blooming warm and full in his chest - the same fondness he'd felt twenty-seven years earlier.  
  
Some things never changed.  
  
_You love him,_ Eddie's brain said simply. _You've always loved him. Even when you didn't know who he was._  
  
And it was that undeniable, long-suffering love that made it all worth it. Because despite everything Eddie had been through, both mentally and physically, he could bear it as long as Richie was there at the end of the day.  
  
Despite everything, he still had Richie.  
  
"The king has returned," Richie declared upon reappearing five minutes later with three bags of chips and a blueberry muffin; he handed the latter to Eddie and plopped back down in the too-small chair, long legs bumping up against the bed. Eddie watched him rip open one of the bags with his teeth before speaking up again.  
  
"Rich?"  
  
"Yeah?" Richie replied around a mouthful of Doritos, which was kind of gross but not Eddie's main concern.  
  
"Bill, Bev, Mike, Ben - they're okay, right?" he asked, forehead creased with worry as he struggled to prop himself up on his elbows. He was pretty sure they were fine - he'd feel it if they weren't - but assuming the worst was sort of his thing.  
  
"Yeah, Eds," Richie said softly. "They're okay."  
  
Eddie's Adam's apple bobbed. "So... IT's dead? Like, for good?"  
  
Richie nodded a slow nod, his face uncharacteristically sober; Eddie sucked in a breath and let it go.  
  
"Good fuckin' riddance."  
  
Richie smiled then, small and soft and oh-so grateful, and said, "Yeah. Good fuckin' riddance."  
  
"How did you guys get me out of Neibolt?"  
  
There was a long, sheepish pause before Richie shrugged and said, "I carried you."  
  
Eddie blinked, realization crashing over his head like a wave. "Wait, you _carried_ me?"  
  
"Yeah, dude. You're roughly the size of a malnourished first grader, so it really wasn't that hard," Richie pointed out, prompting Eddie to flip him off and say, "Fuck you, man. You're lucky you weren't the one who almost died. There's no way I'd be able to haul your six-foot-whatever ass to safety."  
  
"But you'd try, though, right?" Richie asked, despite the fact that they both already knew the answer. They knew Eddie would've broken his back to bring Richie to the surface. They knew he would've tried, and tried, and tried again. They knew.  
  
That's why it was perfectly acceptable for Eddie to say, "No way, bro. I'd leave you in the fuckin' dust. Every man for himself."  
  
And Richie smiled. He smiled because he knew. He smiled because Eddie was here, and Eddie was alive, and Eddie was Eddie. He smiled because from now on they could just live. Together.  
  
What more could a trashmouth ask for?  


**Author's Note:**

> @raspbrak on tumblr :^)


End file.
